Ivory
by DeathRace6000
Summary: They were bound by law, by the mark of his clan, by their sick love. She was his in every way. His Ivory Queen.


It's a tad abstract, but for a very good friend of mine. Enjoy.

**Ivory**

Ivory.

The color was everywhere. Ivory and violet. She supposed that _he _had ordered for her prison to be decorated in such a color scheme as a reminder of who owned her, who had conquered her. The colors were there to remind her that although something appeared light and inviting, underneath the surface said thing could be darker than the deepest chasms of the Underworld. They were there to remind her that she would never see true light again, for she was trapped in the den of the beast.

Most of her days were spent staring at the ceiling and avoiding the gaze of her captor whose violet eyes were fixed intently on her, although he held a book in his hand. He never flipped a single page. Day after day, he wasted countless hours sitting there and observing her as if she were a work of art. He never said a single word to her, and she never said a word to him. Funny, how one could be married and say nothing to their spouse.

Ah yes, he had made sure he forever had a claim on her, that her blood forever stained him, _all _of him. They were bound by law, by the mark of his clan, _by their sick love_. There was a part of her that did love him, but who was to know if it wasn't truly hate disguised as such a pleasant emotion. The same went for him too. She never did find out if his obsession had been built upon hate or admiration. It was of no matter now though; she was his in every way. His Ivory Queen.

"Serenity."

Ages since his voice had been heard. Their beautiful ivory room housed what she had thought was an eternal silence, now proven to be only temporary. He had addressed her and now she would have to do the same, although she was unsure if her vocal cords even worked, if her lips even knew how to form words.

"Demando," she found herself articulating, each syllable so defined and perfect.

It appeared that there would be no further conversation, that their names would hang there forever as if each had just spoken them to place a claim on the other, for Demando said nothing and she said nothing. Familiar silence passed between the two monarchs, though she desperately wished that he would say something to fill the void. She had been given a taste of noise and now wanted more, though her want was sinful. She _wanted _Demando to acknowledge her, _wanted _to know that there was a part of him that still gave chase to her like he had all those years before. She didn't _want _for him to no longer love her, however harsh his love was.

_She didn't want to feel neglected. _

Yet, she knew that as soon as he made a single move, lifted a single finger, she'd be consumed by her animosity and rich hatred for him. Or maybe, it was love. They were such powerful emotions, it was difficult to tell them apart. She never would've dreamed that she would hate the man she was in love with, hate her husband in such a way to where she could not even look at him and would not speak a word to him; she never would've dreamed her husband would've felt the same. They were a dysfunctional pair. To their planet they appeared to be united and deeply captivated by one another, but behind closed doors they acted as if the other one did not inhabit the same dimension and went about their daily business without so much as a curt nod or quipped greeting.

At one point she had been suspicious of him having an affair, or perhaps another woman on the side to quell his raging sex drive such as his subordinate Esmeraude. Her suspicion had been quickly snuffed out by the remembrance of just how hard he had worked to attain her and to have her as his wife. He'd invaded her century from his own a millennia apart, slaughtering all that she cared for until she kissed his ring and said the fateful words of "I do". She had hated him so passionately when they were first married, and he had gone out of his way to charm her and bewitch her heart all for the results he desired.

She fell in love with him.

Once upon a time she had been so concerned about the future, about the love of her life at the time, about their offspring. _This _was the future. Her hostile relationship with the man she loved; the man she called her King. Once upon a time she had been so afraid of him, but now she craved his attention just as he did the wine in his ever-present glass. Once upon a time she had been an innocent girl with a full life ahead of her, now the reality-hardened Queen of the Black Moon.

_"Something troubles you?" _

"What happened to us?" She asked, her voice hoarse from the lack of usage. "What happened to the way things were?"

"I do not understand."

For the first time in what seemed like years, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaning against the many pillows on their shared bed and she looked him in the eyes. Her dull, lifeless blue met his equally as empty violet. Once upon a time they had looked at each other with passionate eyes; one with burning hate, and the other with scorching love. The state of his eyes told her everything; the emotions between them had been long gone.

"We were in love," she said bluntly, and then quietly added. "I was in love..."

He was silent for the period it took him to ponder on the words. He had stripped her of his eyes that were now glued to the floor beneath his feet. With a single hand he shut his book with a thud and placed it on the table beside him, folding his hands together and leaning back against the plush velvet.

"Serenity," he addressed her, his voice pained. "Why are you upset?"

Her lashes drooped, the corners of her mouth following and forming a small frown. Her vision became clouded and the ivory and violet of the room ran together, coalescing into a dull muddle of color. The sensation of tears against her cheeks felt so foreign, although she had cried much in her youth. She reached a shaky hand up towards her face and gently brushed the droplets off, pulling back and examining the ones that had stuck to her fingertips.

"Demando," she choked back a sob. "Do you still love me?"

His expression betrayed not a single thought nor emotion; he was an expert at hiding everything behind a perfectly crafted mask. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side as if he did not even want to look at her. The action scared her so much. Was she _that _horrible to where he did not want to lay eyes upon her? Did he hate his wife that much?

"Demando." she pressed, begging for an answer. She needed him to say something, she needed to hear his response.

She watched as his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. That simple action betrayed that he was nervous and had not a clue what to say to her; strange for a man of his postion. She could not keep the tears from falling, could not ease her heartbreak. It was obvious to her now that he did _not _love her anymore and that the bonds they shared were slowly being dissolved. She would've never thought that he would have been the one she would cry for, never would've thought that it would have been _his _love she desired above all.

"Is this it, then?" she sobbed and let her emotions take control of her. "Is it all over?"

_"Is what all over?"_

His rich, husky voice filled her ears as he abandoned his chair and appeared behind her. A faint yelp escaped her lips as his hands rested on her shoulders; they had not touched in so long. Gently, he turned her to face him and curled his strongs arms around her, holding her to him in a tight embrace. At any other time, she would've fought against him and screamed the words that revealed her deep hate, but at this moment she needed him, she _wanted _him to hold her like this. She could not stop weeping and her tears soaked his immaculate white jacket in the spot where she rested her head. He said not a word to her and stroked her hair, allowing her all the time she needed to cry her withered heart out. It was times like these that she knew he truly did love her, and that she truly did love him, no matter how much she claimed to feel only hate and no matter how much she doubted his feelings. She needed him to say it though, to reassure her. It was all she wanted, and it was all she was asking for.

"What's brought this on all of the sudden?" He murmured against her golden tresses."What upsets you so, my Queen?"

She peeled herself away from the comforting, damp silk of his jacket and tilted her head back to look up at him, for he was much taller than she. Her eyes were glassy with tears and her lower lip trembled as she fought back the tears that threatened to continue falling.

"You still love me, right?"

He did not answer with words.

His fingers gently skimmed her right cheek and took up residence on her chin, grasping it with a gentleness that was afraid to break her as if she were made of porcelain. His lips gently brushed her forehead where her black crescent gleamed and then moved down to place a light kiss on her lips. It was not one of domination, not one meant to tease her, but one that was softhearted and meant to comfort her, to reassure her.

It was his way of telling her that he still _did_ love her.

When he pulled away from her, he offered a small grin and gently chuckled as if to tell her that there should've never been any doubt in the first place. And there never rightfully should've been. Demando had always loved her even if he did not speak the words. He cared for her and didn't want to see her upset, unlike he had all of those years before. No longer did he want to dominate her and crush her. No longer was he so close to her, yet so far away. No longer were his words courteous but empty, instead those of a man in love who was concerned for his wife. In some way their silence had proven to be advantageous instead of destructive and had only served to strengthen their bond.

_To strengthen their sick love_.

She smiled back at him, which to her surprise did not feel forced like she had expected. No longer would there be a wall of silence between the Ivory King and his Queen. No longer would there be an ever present silence in their bedchambers. They would be the pair that the rest of the Black Moon saw; lovestruck, strong, and allied.

Yet, somehow she knew that by the time the moon rose again, she would once more grow to hate him.

Love was a very peculiar thing.

**End**

This was the first time I'd ever done anything on request or written something for a friend to be posted online. It's a little on the fluffy side for my taste, but a nice experiment to see if I still could write anything that sort of left you with a lingering warmth and traces of happiness. If anything was unclear, or you have any questions feel free to ask and I promise I'll respond. Would you kindly review and tell me what you thought? (;


End file.
